


Life by Any Other Name

by lrose20



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Friendship, Gen, Post - Deathly Hallows, Post-Hogwarts, Post-War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-15
Updated: 2013-06-15
Packaged: 2017-12-15 02:36:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 9,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/844357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lrose20/pseuds/lrose20
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Snape survived the snake bite, to the shock and horror of many. To make matters worse, Harry has decided that he is responsible for making sure Snape is cleared, and not tossed in jail or left to rot. Overtime the two men learn to overcome their hatred for each other, and learn how to trust.<br/>A series of vignettes of the course of a year and a half</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. June 1998

**June 1998**

"Do you think this will work?" Harry asked in a hoarse voice, staring up at Madam Pomfrey anxiously.

"It's a very slim chance, Mr. Potter. The venom is deep into his body by now, and this potion has had very limited success," she replied grimly, and then they both returned to looking at Snape, whose skin was as white as chalk, his eyes closed. Now there was nothing to do but wait.

Harry stared down at the man, completely confounded as to how he felt about him. He had been so sure Snape was a traitor, so sure he was on Voldemort's side...But to now find out that not only was Snape loyal, he had loved his mother, been friends with her?  
Harry shook his head slightly. He didn't like Snape any more than he had before...but perhaps some of the blinding hatred had vanished. Harry sighed, staring at his lap. Alright, maybe more than a little. The hatred seemed to have replaced with a bewildering numbness that Harry did not understand.

He was startled out of his thoughts when he heard a very quiet noise and looked back over to see Snape's eyelids flickering.

"Snape?" Harry said tentatively, unsure if the man was even conscious. "Professor?" he said. For a moment Harry was sure he had imagined the movement, but then the dark eyes slowly met his, though there was no expression in them.

"Po-potter?" the man said weakly, sounding doubtful. Then he let out a huff that Harry took to be a chuckle.  
"Of course, not even in hell can I escape the Potters," he wheezed.  
"You're not dead...we gave you a potion...You're in Hogwarts..."  
Snape blinked several times, hard, as if this information wasn't really sinking in. "Not dead? That's...absurd."

"I swear, you're alive...Sir...I..." Harry bit his lip hesitantly, feeling highly uncomfortable."I feel I need to thank you...for everything you've done. I saw your memories and...well, I don't think I can ever forgive you for the things you I understand why you did them...and I know that you were always loyal to Dumbledore."

Snape coughed again, shaking his head. "How utterly touching.I may even be moved to cry," Snape said dryly, his sarcasm far from gone despite the fact that he was on death's door. "Now, be so kind and leave me alone to die, Potter."

Harry's brow furrowed and he shook his head indignantly. "I'm not going to let you die! I'm telling you the truth, the potion is working! Dumbledore would have wanted you to live, I know he would...I don't...er, particularly like you. And yeah, there was a time when I thought you deserved to die. But not anymore...I don't want you to die," Harry added, his voice barely more than a whisper.

Snape made the huffing noise again, seeming to find this amusing. "Ah,yes, and Harry Potter always gets what he wants, doesn't he?"

Harry glowered at him. He shouldn't be surprised, really, that Snape could still be a snarky gift after almost dying."You can glower at me all you want, but I'm not leaving this room until tomorrow morning. Go to sleep." Snape seemed on the verge of arguing, but after staring at Harry for a moment,he simply closed his eyes. As he was drifting back into unconsciousness, he murmured,

"You really do...have her eyes." Then he was asleep once more and Harry stared on with a mixture of alarm and amazement.  
"Madam Pomfrey?" he called after a moment, gaining the attention of the mediwitch. She came bustling over to his side, placing a hand on his shoulder.  
"Do you need something, dear?"

"It worked..." Harry said faintly, his eyes fixed on the figure of his former teacher.  
It would have seemed that the success of saving Severus Snape's life would have been seen as a medical miracle. Instead it turned out to be the biggest headache Harry had ever had to deal with. While he had forgiven Snape for what he had done, or at least tried to keep it from hating the man, others had not forgotten so quickly. Having been in the final battle alongside Harry, Ron and Hermione were slowly won over. Ron was of course more reluctant to believe that Snape had actually been on their side, but even he eventually agreed to not hex Snape when next he saw him, which Harry saw as progress. Professor McGonagall, recently appointed Headmistress of Hogwarts, was not so sure others would believe Harry so easily.

"Potter, I understand what you think you saw. I know that you wish to believe that Severus Snape is a hero, who was only working for our benefit. But you must understand what this looks like. I am in no position to provide clemency or aid for a known Death Eater who was responsible for the death of Albus Dumbledore."

Harry scowled, biting into one of the biscuits she had offered him, this one covered with chocolate.

"Professor, Dumbledore was dying! Severus Snape killed him out of mercy!"  
"Harry, I believe you." McGonagall interrupted him, startling him by placing a wrinkled hand over his own. "I must admit, I am still sceptical about everything you have told me, but I do believe that Severus did what he was told. You must understand that without proof, the Ministry will not listen to a word you have to say. He will be tried guilty and given the Dementor's kiss. Do not try and fight this fire unless you have fire to fight it with."  
Fire, Harry had. The cooperation and sanity of a certain man was something that he found himself in short supply of however.

"What do you mean you don't want them to see your memories?" Harry demanded, glaring at Snape, who lay in the hospital bed, as pale and unhappy as ever.  
"Potter, my memories are not an open book for anyone to peruse. I have no wish to seek defense, or to even stand trial. Whatever little affairs I had to take care of were handled long ago. I rest easy knowing that soon it will be over." Harry stared into those obsidian eyes for a moment, trying to find some hidden meaning there. Then he shook his head in exasperation, straightening up in his chair.

"I never thought I would see this. Severus Snape, giving up! You are honestly telling me that you value your life so little?"  
"What life do I have to value, Potter?" Snape snapped back in retort, the exertion of his vocal chords sending him into another spasm of coughing. Madam Pomfrey came rushing over to see what had happened, but Snape waved her away, finally calming down enough to stop the coughing. He took a deep breath before turning to look at Harry again, his voice calmer but still holding the same amount of spite. "Suppose in the highly unlikely possibility that you convince the Ministry to not convict me, I can assure you I will still be placed under guard. I will be put in a safe house, where I can do little damage. I will be constantly monitored. Tell me, Potter, what kind of life is that?"

"It's better than giving up!" Harry declared, so loudly that Madam Pomfrey insisted he was doing more harm than good and had him leave the Hospital Wing, thus ending the argument.  
Like an obstinate yo-yo that kept springing back up, Harry would not give up. Harry had taken up temporary residence in Hogwarts, under the guise of rebuilding Hogwarts. And yes, he was doing that. Helping restore the walls, the wards, whatever needed done that day. But it also gave him handy access to the infirmary. He visited Snape every day, although Madam Pomfrey limited these visits to twenty minutes. However twenty minutes in a day was all Harry needed to badger Snape about the memories. The rest of his days were consumed by warding away journalists, who were constantly trying to get an interview with Harry or Snape, or ideally: both of them, and consulting law books about defending Snape. Harry wrote to Hermione and Ron frequently, trying to obtain Hermione's help in the problem of finding a way to save Snape's life. 

His best friends were rather occupied however, as they had traveled to Australia to find Hermione's parents and restore their memories. So Harry had tried to give them space and time, knowing how much Hermione needed to fix things with her parents. He had instead been forced to rely on his own intuition and ideas, which Harry had to admit were no were never as clever as Hermione's. He'd nearly given up hope of finding an answer altogether until one day, while plowing his way through yet another dusty book, Harry had an idea. It was an awful idea, an idea he might hate himself for. But if it meant saving Severus Snape's life, then by hell and high water, he would do it.


	2. July 1998

**July 1998**

"I, Harry James Potter, declare myself as the guardian of former Death Eater, Severus Snape."  
"And in doing so, Mr. Potter, do you declare his actions as your own? That if he should break his parole for any reason, it will be on your head?"  
"I do."

The Minister raised his eyebrows at Harry, looking a touch sceptical. He lowered his voice then so that only Harry and a few surrounding wizards could hear his words.  
"Mr. Potter, I must ask, are you sure you wish to do this? Severus Snape is a Death Eater, the murderer of Albus Dumbledore. You do not have to save his worthless life. Believe me, the Wizarding World will judge you favourably if you declare him guilty. Rather more so, I think."  
Less than a month ago, Harry would have whole heartedly agreed with the Minister. But now he simply and firmly shook his head, his chin raised.

"I am sure, Minister. My choices are my own. And I really couldn't give a damn what the Wizarding World thinks of me. Let's finish this, so that we can all go home." The Minister coughed slightly into his handkerchief, glanced once more at Harry, and then shaking his head, he announced,  
"The Ministry of Magic declares Harry James Potter the guardian of Severus Snape for the indefinite period in which the Ministry sees fit." The Minister swiftly signed the form, watched as Harry did the same, and then with a spark of magic, the paper disappeared. The words: "Court adjourned" were lost in the screams of protests and questions that came from the crowd.

So this was how Harry Potter, the Chosen One, and Severus Snape, reformed Death Eater, ended up living together. As Snape had predicted, the Ministry had gone to extreme lengths to find a house that was secluded and as far away from London as possible while still being in the United Kingdom. The old house that they had been set up in was about twenty minutes outside of the town of Wick. It was a charming little town, with a grand total of three harbors, and a fairly small magical community. It was leagues away from London, but when one could apparate, distance mattered little. And so Harry had not complained about the location. Snape had of course muttered snidely about the quaint settings and the isolation, but Harry thought the man was secretly pleased. He couldn't see Snape being too happy being surrounded by people.

The house was plain, white wash on the outside. It had one floor and an attic that was filled with relics that apparently the Ministry hadn't bothered to get rid of. There was one large bedroom which Harry allowed Snape to have, given his fragile condition. Despite the man's temper and sarcasm, he was still very weak and was only able to stay awake for thirty minutes, an hour at most. His best record so far had been four hours of being awake in a period of twenty four hours. Harry took one of the smaller bedrooms on the other side of the house, knowing that his former professor would eventually appreciate the privacy. There was a sitting room with a fire place, and a kitchen. Other than a bathroom and a garden, that was all the house had. Not much space or amenities, but really, how much did they need? Harry would be gone with work, and Snape would be asleep.

And indeed, this was the way life went for quite some time. Harry would wake up, eat breakfast, put the kettle on, read The Prophet, and get dressed. Then he would drink his tea, bring a mug and the paper to Snape's room, and leave for London. When he arrived home, Snape would typically be asleep again. It was a rare occurrence that the two were even awake or around at the same time. After a while, Harry began to wonder if this had really been a mercy. Would it have been better to simply let Snape die? After all, what type of life was this? Much to Harry's annoyance, he remembered Snape saying almost those exact same words to him in the hospital wing. Sodding know it all that the man was. But it was too late to change his decision, and somewhere deep inside himself, he knew he had done the right thing.


	3. November 1998

**November 1998**

Harry sat by the fireplace, a mug of tea in his hand as he watched the flames. Outside the wind howled and moaned, making the windows rattle. Freezing rain fell and tinkled upon the roof. Harry had not bothered to change out of his Auror robes just yet.

He had returned around six after another grueling day of work. Upon his declaration of guardianship to Snape, Harry had made record time at achieving a position in the Aurors. He hardly thought it was fair, really. He had just managed to complete basic training when he was offered the position, while others had trained for years without such reward. But the Wizarding World seemed to determined to believe that Harry was the next Merlin, and there was little he could do to convince them otherwise.

The Aurors had still been unsuccessful at hunting down the remaining Death Eaters, and they had almost lost a man today. Harry had arrived home and had immediately gone to check on Snape who was staying in the master bedroom. He had found the former potions master fast asleep beneath the downy covers, his face still as pale as ever. Even though Snape had been attacked by Nagini nearly half a year ago, he was still very weak and typically slept a good eighteen hours every day.

So Harry had tiptoed back out of the room and whipped himself up some Earl Grey tea. Now he sat listening to the storm, feeling troubled. He had never expected there to be such chaos after Voldemort's defeat, but the wizarding world was a mess right now.

A large amount of Voldemort's followers had managed to avoid detection and seemed determined to continue Voldemort's mission. Ever the opportunist, Lucius Malfoy had been quite eager to help the Ministry hunt down the rest of these fanatics, for a price of course. If Harry had been Minister, he would have made sure the slippery bastard was locked in the farthest reaches of Azkaban. As for Malfoy Junior, Harry had not seen him for quite some time. It was rumored that he had taken his mother to the Caribbean, where they were having a long holiday. Harry could not say he blamed them. At the end, all Narcissa had cared about was her son, and Draco had at least stayed out of Harry's way.  
Harry groaned, taking a long sip of his tea and shaking his head at the fire. He needed advice, he needed someone to talk to-

"Potter?"  
Harry's head shot up and looked over his shoulder to see Snape leaning against the entrance way, wrapped in a blanket and looking quite weak."Snape, you shouldn't be out of bed! You're not well enough!"

Snape scowled at him. "I cannot stay in that bed for a moment longer. I get sick of the silence...after hours of only my own thoughts, even your company is appealing."  
"Gee, I'm flattered." Harry said "Fine then, come sit down before you faint or something." Snape arched an eyebrow, but complied, shakily making his way over to the sofa and sitting down next to Harry. Both men were silent for a few moments before Snape spoke again.

"You know Potter, you don't have to keep doing this. It's been months, I can survive without a nurse maid. The Ministry has deemed that I am indeed not an immediate threat." Snape spat these words as if they were poison on his tongue. "You could live in London, surrounded by your friends and fans."  
"Oh for Merlin's sake, how many times do we have to do this?" Harry snapped, at the same time that the wind gave a particularly fierce shake to the windows. "After everything you did for me, for the Order, for Dumbledore, this is the least you deserve."  
"Potter, I made your life miserable...you owe me nothing. Get that through your hero's head."

Harry glowered at him, setting his mug down. "I'm not a hero! I'm just...look, I don't trust anyone else to do this. If I don't owe it to you, I owe it to Dumbledore. And you owe it to him to put up with having a...a nurse maid, as you put it!" Snape looked like he wanted to argue, but he remained silent, looking back at the fire again.

The storm continued to rage on, and the pair sat there in silence, each lost in their own thoughts."...I wish he was still alive..."Harry suddenly murmured. "He made me so angry sometimes, not telling me everything, manipulating me...But I miss him. I miss him alot." Harry said, his voice cracking, and a tear sliding down his cheek. Snape looked at him for a minute, then to Harry's shock, he put a hand very lightly on the younger man's shoulder.  
"I miss him too." And that was all either needed in that moment, as they sat there and listened to the wind cry, the ice fall, and they remembered a man they had both loved.  
After this rather bizarre evening of camaraderie Snape seemed to get better. He still slept a great deal, but he was now up during the day. Occasionally he would be awake when Harry got up in the morning, and Harry would bring him breakfast and tea. Their conversations remained clipped and short. Snape was sarcastic and snide and in return, Harry was frustrated and exhausted. After six months of Snape being practically comatose, Harry had somehow deluded himself into believing that this was going to be easy. Why Harry ever thought 'easy' and 'Severus Snape' could belong in the same sentence was beyond him.

"Fine. Next time you can make your own bloody tea!"  
"Language, Potter." Snape snapped, setting his mug of tea down with more force than was necessary.  
"You're not my teacher any more!" Harry retorted. "Don't boss me around, I have no tolerance for it, Snape, I do not! And if you give me that patronizing look one more time, so help me-!"  
"I will cease to tell you what to do when you begin to behave like a grown wizard, and not a self centered teenager!"

"Self centered? Oh, I'm self centered, am I? Me staying in this God-forsaken place, catering to your whims, is self centered? Heaven help us then if I was to be more considerate!" Harry yelled, all self control gone.  
"Go, then!" Snape snarled in return. "No one is forcing you to stay! I would certainly benefit from your absence!"

Harry stared at Snape for a moment, his chest heaving. Then with a growl under his breath, he waved his wand, and with a crack, he was gone. Moments later the teacup met an untimely demise against the wall.


	4. December 1998

**December 1998**

Harry did not return until Christmas evening. He had apparated to the field beside the house to find himself plastered with an unusual blasting of snow that was dropping from the sky. He swore as a large clump of it fell from the house onto his head and he dove for the door, jerking it open and slamming it shut behind him. So much for making a quiet entrance. The house was deathly quiet, which did not reassure Harry in the slightest. "Snape?" he called hesitantly, having not forgotten the row they'd had. There was no answer, and Harry groaned. If Snape was dead...

He glanced around, made to go into the sitting room, and then heard a loud clattering from the kitchen, followed by several curses and strings of profanity. Harry raised his eyebrows and carefully ventured towards the kitchen, slowly peering around the corner. The stove was a mess, with soup covering its entirety. It trailed down the old fashioned oven and onto the floor where it had pooled around the shoes of one Severus Snape, who held a pot in his hand.

"Er...Happy Christmas." Harry said, although he doubted his yuletide greeting was welcome. Snape whirled around, startled by Harry's voice, then scowled when he saw who it was.  
"What was that Muggle saying? Bah, humbug?" He slammed the pot back onto the stove with a ferocity that Harry had only seen a few times.  
"What happened?" Harry asked hesitantly.

"I don't know," Snape growled. "I was attempting to make soup. When the Ministry learned you had returned to London, they placed my magic under restriction."  
"What? Those arrogant..."  
"I had assumed that was why you were here. To make sure I hadn't broken parole."  
"No, it's...well, it's Christmas. I couldn't let you spend it alone."  
"You chose to spend Christmas evening in this desolate place? The Weasleys' cuisine must have really gone downhill," Snape said snidely, before staring at the mess on the soup rather morosely.

"Oh, let me." Harry said, a note of exasperation in his voice. "Evanesco." The soup vanished from the kitchen, although it left behind the distinct smell of garlic and potatoes. "I already went there. We had Christmas dinner earlier. And I'll have you know that Mrs. Weasley's food is better than it's ever been. They're having a New Years party...you should come." Harry offered, trying to make his voice nonchalant  
.  
"Potter, when have you known me to have any interest in social events? Do you really believe people would be so willing to have a former Death Eater crashing a party?"  
"There's always time for a change." Harry said, taking off his traveling robe which was now soaked through.

"Absolutely not. If every dundering idiot was constantly experimenting with their potions, they would kill themselves. The same applies to one's life, Mr. Potter. Do not try and turn me into Albus Dumbledore. I am old, tired, and I prefer it that way. Happy. Christmas," In two clipped words, Snape had ended the conversation, and had left the kitchen, leaving Harry alone.  
"Bah, humbug," Harry muttered under his breath.


	5. January 1999

**January 1999**

To the shock of no one, Snape didn’t attend the New Years party. Harry decided not long into the festivities that it was probably for the best. While his immediate friends and co-workers had seemed to accept Snape’s innocence and Harry’s guardianship, most others had not. Every day Harry was plagued by a group of reporters who wanted to know every little detail of his life with the former Death Eater. Was he under a confundus charm? Could Snape fly? Was Harry suffering from post-traumatic stress syndrome? And so Harry kindly told them to go bugger themselves. Of course, that got printed too. Harry didn’t mind the reporters; he’d gotten use the them after all these years. It was the widower who had lost all his children and wife that bothered him. The Auror who had lost all but an eye and a leg. Them and so many others who yelled at him on the street, who called him a traitor. Harry knew it wasn’t true, knew that he was doing the right thing. But that didn’t help the guilt that Harry felt, didn’t wash away the pain that ate away at him.

It was after yet another unsuccessful raid that Harry fell apart. He had been heading towards the fire places to apparate home, when a woman began to screech at him. “Traitor! Bastard! My husband was blown to bits by the likes of him! I couldn’t even bury him! Traitor!” In a moment of madness, Harry had pointed his wand at her, and had been stunned by two of his co-workers. His boss gently suggested Harry take some time off. And so Harry found himself wandering around the little house aimlessly, driving his former Professor mad.

"There's nothing to do." Harry said grumpily, staring out at the rain. Snape heaved a long suffering sigh, looking up from his book.  
"You look like a child, standing there pouting. For heaven's sake, surely an 18 year old man knows how to entertain himself. Go...explore the house or something. Go clean out that infernal attic. Just let me read!"

Harry scowled unhappily but wandered out of the parlor, and was indeed about to go excavate the attic, when there was a knock on the door.  
“Mr. Potter,” the wizard greeted him promptly upon Harry opening the door.  
“Em, yes. Hello. Can I help you?” Harry asked, running his hand through his hair.  
“My name is Lewis D’Marcus, I’m from the Ministry. I need to speak with both you and Mr. Snape.”

“Professor Snape,” Harry corrected automatically, making the other wizard blink in surprise. “Yeah, he’s here...Come in, I guess,” Harry invited reluctantly, stepping back to allow D’Marcus to enter the little house.

“Potter, so help me, if it is Weasley or Granger-” Snape cut himself off as Harry led D’Marcus into the sitting room.  
“Good afternoon, Mr.-Er, Professor Snape,” D’Marcus said, clearly reluctant to refer to Snape by that title. “I work for the Ministry, and I would like a word with both you and Mr. Potter.”

He sat down in the chair across from Snape, who seemed less than thrilled to have a visitor from the Ministry. “Is it about my magic being restored to me?” Snape icily inquired.  
“Well, that is certainly relevant,” D’Marcus mused. “I am sure both of you are aware that we’re having...well a bit of trouble rounding up the last of the Death Eaters.”

Harry snorted; there was an understatement if ever he’d heard one.  
“Yes, we had an inkling,” Snape said silkily. “It is hardly sensational news to us.”  
Harry’s lip quirked in spite of himself, watching D’Marcus squirm under Snape’s scathing tone.

“Ahem, yes, of course...Well, as you know Professor, you are indebted to the Ministry for its...leniency towards you and Mr. Potter’s request for you to remain out of prison.”  
Harry scowled. “Does the Ministry need me to show them the bloody Pensieve again?”  
“No, no. We are calling in your charge’s debt. Professor Snape, your role as a spy has been reinstated.”


	6. February 1999

**February 1999**

“Try to not look so happy, you might give people the impression you’re actually not an evil murderer,” Harry muttered under his breath to his companion. Snape glared at him out of the corner of his eye, his back stiff and tense.  
“Everyone here already thinks I am guilty, that I deserve to get the kiss. Why should I bother trying to change their minds?”

Harry opened his mouth to reply but Snape cut him off by adding, “And besides, this is what the Ministry wants, is it not? For me to once again play the role of Death Eater, immoral and unfeeling.”

“Are you telling me you do feel?” Harry asked, only half joking.  
“Don’t be an idiot, Potter,” Snape snapped back as the photographer took one last photo, finally freeing the two men from their forced poses behind the podium. “Go on then, lead the way, Potter. After all, you are well versed in mingling with the press,” Snape drawled, stepping off the platform.

“I prefer to avoid the press actually, despite what you might think about me,” Harry answered, though his voice lacked any real spite. “Let’s just get this over with so you can get back to making plans and I can go fly.”  
Snape arched a brow but then nodded in agreement, following Harry. They had just reached the table with drinks when a wrenching cry pierced the air.

“Bastard! Traitor! How dare you show your face in public?” The screech was coming from a plainly dressed witch a few feet away from them, whose face was wrenched with fury and anguish. “My son, my boy-Dead! Dead because of the likes of you, you monster, you-you filth!” She had reached Snape by this point and was beating her fists on him, too distraught to bother with her wand. Snape took the beating without protest, his face blank, though Harry noticed his fingers were shaking minutely. The woman carried on so that Harry had just been about to try and intervene when two Ministry officials pulled the woman off Snape, and led her away, though they both gave Snape disgusted looks. The entire room was silent, all eyes fixed on Harry and Snape.  
“Enjoy the party, Potter,” Snape said, his voice lacking any emotion, as he flicked his wand and Disapparated, murmurs of surprise and outrage filling the room.

Harry stood frozen for several moments, before Hermione and Ron snapped him out of it, drawing him away from the table with gentle words and a glass of wine. He left as soon as he could though, any enjoyment he could have had today now absent. He returned to the little house and looked around, to find Snape sitting in front of the fire. He held a glass of whiskey in his hands, his fingers wrapped tightly around the glass.

Harry sat down by Severus, looking hesitant. He fumbled with his hands for a moment, bit his lip, then turned to the older man. "You're not a monster." he whispered. "I don't care what that woman, or the papers, or anyone else says...They don't know the truth. They don't see who you are."

"And what is that, Potter? A bitter old man? A sarcastic professor? A murderer?"  
Harry shook his head, though a part of him knew all three of those were true." One of the bravest men I have ever met. Someone who doesn't take any bullshit. An honest man, an incredible wizard and Potions Master."

"Is that all?" Snape asked dryly, clearing not buying Harry’s words.  
"...And my friend."


	7. March 1999

**March 1999**

In March, the news came that Snape would be sent on a recon mission. A mission the Minister had already told Snape posed a high level of risk. If he did not play his role perfectly, the Death Eaters would kill Snape without blinking an eye. And if he did, there was a chance an Auror could still decide to wound him or kill him just because he was there. Harry, for one, thought it was the stupidest thing he'd ever heard.  
"Severus, please! You don't have to do this!"

"I do. If I am not there, they will suspect something is amiss and things will quickly turn ugly. The Order needs me to play my role so that they may do their job. If we succeed, the last of the Death Eaters will be destroyed. The last remnants of the Dark Lord's rule will be swept away."

Harry caught hold of Snape's robes, shaking his head."And if you don't succeed? What do I do?"  
"I am sure you will manage quite well without me. I am sure Miss Ginevra has missed your obnoxious company.You two were a couple in school, were you not? You hardly need me to survive. We used each other, Potter. Used each other to take out our pain, to take out our violence. I hid from mine in yours, and you in mine. Now, let go. I must go, it is already late." He gripped Harry's hand forcefully and wrenched them off of his robes, smoothing them down with his hands.

"That's not true! I know we-.we don't always get along...But I don't want you to die! I don’t want to lose you, I mean-” Harry shook his head, realizing how stupid he sounded. “I don’t want to lose someone else.... You're one of the only people who sees me, who actually sees me. This is suicide."

Snape sighed, even as he opened the front door. " I would rather die fighting, then hide while others die in my stead. I'm sure the hero in you can understand that, Potter..." He seemed about to step out the door, but then he suddenly turned back, and put a hand on Harry's shoulder.

"For what it is worth, you are the only other person besides your mother and Albus Dumbledore who has ever...bothered to get to know me.. I am grateful for that, even if you are insufferable half the time." And then without letting Harry form a response, he whirled on his heel and stalked out into the pouring rain and darkness, disappearing into the fog. Harry stumbled out the door, running after him. But it was too late; Snape had Disaparated, and even if he had not, he would be invisible in this weather. Harry stared out into the black abyss, the rain pouring down on him in sheets, soaking through until it felt like it was touching his very bones. He fell to the wet ground, his knees sinking into the mud, as tears began to stream down his cheeks, mixing with the rain. He sat there and cried for so long that he could no longer tell what was the rain and what were tears.

All the while, far away from the safe haven of the field Harry wept in, Severus Snape prepared to face almost certain death. The rain and wind swept his hair out of place, as he stood atop the cliff, shivers running down his spine as the faces appeared, dressed in masks he knew far too well. As he stepped forward to greet them, the rain began to pound even harder, and for a moment, Severus could feel Harry's tears whisper across his own face.

"How am I supposed to sit here calmly?" Harry growled, pacing back and forth in front of the fountain of the Ministry. Ron and Hermione stood nearby, looking as tired as Harry felt.  
"You know what Snape said, Harry," Hermione reminded him gently, as if afraid to anger him."He wouldn't be able to get the Death Eaters in the right place if they'd seen him with Aurors."

"They could kill him, Hermione!" Harry shot back.  
"So?" Ron spoke up, making both Harry and Hermione glare at him. "I don't mean I want him to be killed!" Ron continued hastily. "But it's his job... It's always been his job, being a spy."  
"It shouldn't have to be," Harry said, running a hand through his hair, only messing it up more. He sighed, looking back at his friends. "I just... I can't lose someone else. And not after everything we did to make sure he stayed free..."

As if on cue, the fireplace on the other side of the hall burst full of green flames and Snape staggered out, followed by two Aurors. The Minister was instantly by their side, as Snape began to tell him what had transpired.

"Sev-Snape!" Snape turned from where he was talking to the Minister, and felt rather than saw something collide into him, knocking the wind out of him. He looked down to see Harry clinging to him, before clearly coming to his senses and pulling away.  
"You're...you're alive," he stuttered,staring up at him through those ridiculous glasses, eyes wide.  
“Oh, well spotted...Potter, get a hold of yourself," Snape whispered gruffly.  
Harry huffed and blinked to stop tears from falling, ignoring the stares he was receiving.  
"You don't have to do this anymore. You don't have to- to pay penance!" Harry told him fiercely. "You know I have a theory, it's a pretty good one, want to hear it?"

Snape scoffed slightly but motioned for Harry to hurry it up.  
"You're a grumpy, supposedly old man because you were constantly put in positions that were life and death and the outcome depended solely on how well you lied!"  
Snape gave him a look of utter disgust. "Of course that's why, are you stupid, Potter-"  
"Well then stop bloody doing it!" Harry snapped, and with one last glare at Snape, he whirled on his heel and stalked away, leaving everyone, even Snape, speechless.

Thanks to Snape and the Aurors, the last of the Death Eaters were found and locked away. Harry made sure to see that all the papers credited Snape, and the Daily Prophet even put a short article in about the boy who lived's "tearful reunion with reformed Death Eater" Snape had absolutely no interest in his sudden fame, having no issue with telling reporters to sod off.

The Saturday after the capture had happened, Harry visited Dumbledore's grave. He wanted to talk about what Snape had done, how Harry's view of the man had changed. But once he was in front of the tomb, he was at a loss for how to word his thoughts.  
A crow cawed loudly as it flew from its perch on the tree nearby, making Harry jump. He whirled around and stopped short when he saw Snape standing behind him. Snape nodded at him before coming to stand beside him. After a moment, he put a hand on Harry's shoulder but said nothing, simply staring at the white tomb. Could they really go on without Albus Dumbledore?

The world had needed more men like him, men who defied the odds, who broke the rules and were then admired for having done so. Now Albus was dead, and the wizarding world was being run by men like Fudge and Scrimgeour, men who had little heart and no imagination.  
Who was going to lead them through this new, dark hour?  
"We'll be alright." Harry said suddenly,his voice soft.  
Snape started and looked at Harry, before shaking his head. "You have no way of knowing that, Potter."

Harry ignored him."We will be though... We can bring light back here. It's what he would have wanted.”  
Snape did not really agree with him, but he did not argue with Harry; he'd decided perhaps he respected the young man a bit more. He was forced to reassess his opinion however when he was awoken that night against his will.

"Severus...wake up! Severus!" There was a thump, a muffled "oof", then narrowed black eyes appeared as Snape tossed the offending pillow off his face.  
"Potter, what in Merlin's name are you doing? Or have you forgotten what happened last time you decided to wake me up before I was ready?"  
Harry waved his hand dismissively, nodding. "Yeah, how could I forget? You made me spend all day in the Potions Lab with you. And you can make me do it again if you want, but after you've seen this."

Snape sighed. " Why do I even bother trying to get answers out of you? Fine then, hand me my robe." He climbed smoothly out of bed, tying his robe around himself. "Very well, lay on MacDuff." Harry arched an eyebrow at the Muggle reference but didn't comment, leading him out of the bedroom, down the hall, and out the door. "You could have at least had the decency to tell me we were going outside."

"Trust me, no one's around to see your dressing gown. They won't care."  
"They?" Harry just ignored him, leading him across the field that was wet with dew, and past the oak trees just starting to bloom. Then to the barn of their Muggle neighbor Mr. McMahon. "Potter, what on earth-?" Harry scowled, tapping his lips with a finger.  
"For once in your life, shut up." Without giving the Potions Master any chance to respond, he dragged him into the barn and pointed to the hay. There lay a mare, a gorgeous one the color of chestnuts, and beside it a new born foal, no more than a few hours old, suckling from it. Snape blinked in surprise and then shook his head. “Potter, what-”

"It's the first of Spring today." Harry said, staring at the foal, green eyes twinkling.  
"So it is...A time for fresh starts...thank you, Pot-Harry."  
"For what?" Harry asked, not expecting those words from Snape's mouth.  
"For giving me the chance to make a fresh start of my own.”


	8. July 1999

**July 1999**

"Potter-."  
"Severus, are you ever going to call me Harry? We've lived together for a year now."  
"Harry, then.” Snape continued reluctantly. “ I see no reason for me to partake in this foolishness. You should invite the rest of the dream team to enjoy your ridiculous bonfire and let me do some work."

Harry shook his head, tossing another log into the fire.  
"Oh no, you're not wiggling your way out of this one. Besides, you know full well that Ron and Hermione are on their honeymoon. So sit down and pass me a marshmallow."  
Snape sat, begrudgingly, arching an eyebrow at Harry's request."A what?" 

Harry chuckled, pointing to a bag of white blobs. "Those. They're called marshmallows."  
Snape picked up the bag with two fingers and extracted one, passing it to Harry."A ludicrous name for a food that not even a house elf should eat, let alone a respectable wizard. Potter, why on Earth are you putting it on a stick?"

"You roast it over the fire. Makes it all warm and...yummy."  
"Yummy?" Snape repeated. "This is what I get for living with someone young enough to be my son. You really are quite uncultured, Potter. Of all the sweets you could be eating, you pick this."

"You should try one. You're always going on about how Muggle activities are a waste of time, but you liked the sledding well enough."  
Said sledding had taken place during a freak snow storm caused by some wizard messing with the weather, and Harry had refused to miss the opportunity to enjoy snow in June.  
"I certainly did not. I was soaking wet because a certain childish Gryffindor decided to push me off that ridiculous contraption."

Harry grinned cheekily and popped the marshmallow half way into his mouth.  
“Did you know the Sorting Hat almost put me in Slytherin?” he asked, around the blob of sugar. Snape stared at him as if he’d suddenly grown a second head. Harry smiled innocently as he swallowed. “Only put me in Gryffindor because I wanted it to. It thought I would have done great in Slytherin.”

“It would have made my job of keeping you alive, easier, certainly,” Snape managed to get out after a moment. “Of course I might have throttled you myself, had you been in my house. So perhaps it was safer you got placed in the home of the stupidly brave after all.”  
“Maybe you should have been a Gryffindor then, sir,” Harry said, eyebrow quirked. “After all, seemed to me what you did in March was pretty stupidly brave.”  
“There’s no reason to insult me Potter. Pass me that stupid stick before you poke your eye out.”


	9. August 1999

**August 1999**

Blinding white light flashed across Harry’s eyes, making him look away as a bolt of lightning struck the sky. The fields around the house were illuminated for a moment, as if a giant spotlight had been moved across them. Then it was black again, and he was left with the light of his wand and the candles he had floating around him. He heard thunder rumble, so strong he could feel the windows tremble under his palm. The window grew colder as tiny droplets of rain began to fall, clinging to the pane for a moment before sliding down and collecting in a little pool. Harry’s green eyes followed the rain as it raced down; it looked rather like the window was crying, slowly becoming more and more upset. If he could still cry, he would be like the window, with tears collecting in the corners of his mouth. But he didn't cry, not anymore. Could not cry, would be more accurate. He couldn't even make a choking noise to express sorrow. For most, a smile is the hardest thing to fake. But smiles weren't difficult for Harry. It was tears that refused to show themselves.

Lightning struck again, and the fields lit up once more, to reveal absolutely nothing. Just stalks of corn and wheat blowing back and forth, as if being tossed about by an ocean. And once again, it was black, the rain now coming down in rivets. A candle sputtered and then went out, and he did not bother relighting it. What good would it do to try and burn a candle when there was no wick left? When all that he had was already burned down to a pile of emptiness.  
He'd had enough. The only light left to ignite was the light that God might or might not give. Like the sun...or rather, the lightning....

"Don't lie to me, Snape! Teddy nearly died because I wasn’t paying attention. On the one day I actually had to spend with him...Andromeda trusts me with him and what do I do? I screw it up! So I can bloody well drink my life away if I want to. After all, why should you care? You don't care about me! You said it yourself! We used each other. Everyone used me, and I don’t know how to do anything normal! People see me as an object, the shiny hero, the knight in shining armor. They don't care about what I like, how I feel..." Harry trailed off, before taking another long drink out of the bottle. 

Snape rolled his eyes skyward, trying to suppress his frustration. He knew after living with the young man for so long that Harry would be totally unresponsive to snapped words and sneers.  
"Potter-...Harry, that is a lie. .You are loved, more than you might deserve you idiot boy. Dumbledore loved you, despite his...cryptic behavior.Your friends love you. After all the reckless and suicidal things they went through with you, how could they not? They have seen you for who you are...” Here Snape paused, and glanced away, swallowing hard. “And don't for one damn fool moment try and tell yourself I do not care about you, you idiotic boy.”

Harry snorted into the bottle. “You cared about my mother, not me, you-”

“I would not be here now if I did not care, Potter.” Snape retorted hotly. “ But none of this matters until you start caring for yourself, Potter. So put down the damn bottle, get your cloak, we’re going out.”


	10. September 1999

**September 1999**

Snape flipped a page of his book, eyes fixed upon the words that he was reading. He had reached a most intriguing story, of the first wizard who had created wolfsbane. This potion was one that he himself had worked extensively on, although a bit grudgingly since it had been for Lupin. He flipped to the next page, and had just began to read when-  
KER-SPLASH.  
"Potter!" 

A head of messy black hair appeared on the surface of the water, following by bright green eyes and a wide grin  
"Merlin, it's cold. Brr."  
"What was that Potter?"  
"What was what?"  
"That...childish form of entering the water."

"It's called a cannonball. Usually you yell it when you jump in, but I didn't want to distract you." 

Snape made a choking noise in the back of his throat, too outraged to speak for a moment. "Distract me? What do you call this?" He held up his book angrily, which was now a sopping wet mess.

Harry had the decency to look sheepish, swimming away some in order to distance himself from Snape's wrath.  
"Er...whoops?"

"Whoops? As eloquent as ever, I see."

"Aren't you the one always reminding me I'm a wizard? Can't you just dry it with your wand?” 

Snape glowered, waving his wand and the book appeared to be as good as new."Of course. That isn't the point. Do you never think before you do things?" Harry bit his lip, looking down, and Snape was shocked to see tears swimming in his eyes. "What I meant...Potter, so help me if you start crying. I simply was engrossed in my book. It was a shock that's all...Harry?" He stepped closer to try and see Harry's face, and it was then that the younger man looked up, the tears gone, a mischievous look in his eyes.  
"Accio Snape." 

With an undignified noise of surprise, Snape was yanked into the pool, falling right in front of Harry, splashing water everywhere. He emerged coughing, his eyes narrowed.  
"What was that about?" he demanded.  
Harry grinned cheekily, pulling a piece of seaweed off of the other man’s head. "I thought before I did that. Couldn't think of another way to get you to swim with me."  
"The civilized method is to ask."  
"Pssh, you would have said no."

"That is entirely beside the point. Now, I am going inside to dry off and actually have some quiet to finish my book. Don't come crying to me if you get pneumonia."  
Snape pulled himself out of the pond, grumbling to himself at the way his robes squished and flopped around from all the water. Harry watched him go, unhappily. His face scrunched up, actually feeling rather hurt that Snape had just left him. Then after watching Snape enter the house and close the door, his face brightened again. Stay dry, huh? Not if Harry had anything to do with it. He whispered some words under his breath, flicking his wand. Several seconds later there was a roar from the house.

"Potter! Why is the ceiling raining?"


	11. October 1999

**October 1999**

"For the last time, I will not be dressing up!"

"Oh come on! You'd make such a good vampire!...You know there were rumors that you were one back at school...and I've seen you turn into a bat before."

"Absolutely not, Potter. You are welcome to make a spectacle out of yourself by putting on some costume, but I will not be joining you. And as for the rumors, they were simply that. I can assure you, if I was a vampire, your blood would have been the first I would have drank." 

Harry smirked, pulling a black cloak from his closet."Because mine would taste so good?"

"No, because you were an annoying little bastard in school." 

Harry huffed, rolling his eyes and grabbing a green jumper and a pair of trousers. "Please? You can't let me sit outside with candy all by myself."

"Potter, you should simply leave a bowl of those blasted candies on the porch and be done with it."

"What fun is that? Please, Sev?"

"Absolutely not. And if you ever refer to me as ‘Sev’ again, I will make sure your mouth is washed out with soap. But I will help you with yours, if you'd like." Snape conceded. "What are you putting on?...Are those my clothes?" he demanded.

Harry had his back turned to Snape, as he murmured a spell, and then turned around. His hair was now finer, down to his shoulders, and his nose was crooked, and the glasses gone.  
"You were the scariest thing I could think to dress up as." Harry grinned. "I'll scare the poor kids half to death, don't you think?"

"You're lucky I'm not a vampire, Potter."


	12. November 1999

**November 1999**

"Severus, what're you doing? You're going to get sick again, you git!" 

Snape turned to look at Harry, then shook his head. "I'll be there in a moment." 

Harry raised his eyebrows, and then after swearing, he dashed out into the rain, running up beside him."Are you alright? Why are you just standing out here?"

"I...enjoy the rain, if you must know, Potter." 

Harry's nose scrunched up. "I don't like the rain...it reminds me of...that night," he whispered. 

Snape frowned, deep lines etched on his face. "I suppose it makes me feel...alive. It's like a thousand miniature needles pricking my skin." 

Harry now frowned, shaking his head. "You're really morbid, you know that. Please, let's go inside."

"No...I want you to feel this too...Feel it, Potter. The rain cannot hurt you. The memories cannot get you." He gripped Harry’s wrist and pulled him in front of his own body. Harry trembled against him for a moment and then buried his face in his hands, muffled sobs escaping every now and then. They stood out there for quite a long time, until Harry finally stopped crying and they were both drenched to the bone. Snape thought he’d helped some, because the next morning, Harry had seemed lighter, more relaxed. The following morning however found the young man with a temperature, a runny nose and a headache.

So perhaps standing out in the rain in the middle of the night was not the healthiest forms of therapy...

 

Harry sneezed again, and he whimpered slightly, curling up tighter in the blanket. He had woken up long after Severus had gone out, to find his head throbbing, his nose runny and his temperature well above where it should have been. He had barely managed to stumble out to the couch before collapsing onto it and wrapping himself in the thin blanket there. Then he had simply sunk in and out of consciousness, feeling too weak to even conjure a fire, let alone make himself some food. He coughed harshly as he heard the front door open. Snape came in, wrapped up in his warmest traveling cloak, hair slightly mussed from the wind. He stopped short when he saw Harry laying there, looking like a corpse with his skin so pale.

"Potter, what on earth are you doing?"

"Don' feel good," came the weak reply.

Snape sighed in exasperation, tossing his cloak into a chair and rolling up his sleeves as if he was about to do surgery. "That, Mr. Potter, is obvious. Why are you not in bed? Tell me you haven't been there all day."

"Um...was waitin' for you." Harry murmured incoherently, letting out another harsh fit of coughs.

Snape glowered at the younger man, taking that as a yes. "Have you eaten anything? At least drank some tea?" Snape demanded, already certain of the answers.

"Nu-uh...not...hungry."

"Oh for Merlin's sake. You're as competent as a first year. How you reached adulthood is beyond me. Lord knows what would happen if I wasn't around." Then without further ado, he unceremoniously picked Harry up off the couch, swinging him into his arms. He was tempted to throw the man over his shoulder, but he doubted that would help Harry's cold. So instead he carried him bridal style into his bedroom, and deposited him into the bed.

"Sev...don't wanna be in bed. Wanna be with you."

Severus ignored the use of the abhorred nickname, instead simply saying, "I don't particularly care what you want, Mr. Potter. You are completely incoherent." Snape waved his wand and a cup of tea appeared in front of Harry. "Drink. And no more talking, or you will lose your voice...although perhaps then I might actually have some peace and quiet." Harry sighed weakly, but obeyed, sipping at the lemon ginger tea. Snape nodded in approval and went to leave the bedroom, when Harry threw his arm around, grabbing Snape's wrist.

"Nohh! Don’t go. I won't drink the tea...undess 'ou stay." Snape scowled and for a minute it appeared that he might refuse. But then he sat down upon the bed next to Harry. "Feel bettah already." Harry murmured, closing his eyes. And then, when Harry couldn't see him, a hint of a smile tugged at Snape’s mouth.


	13. December 1999

**December 1999**

“Snape...Snape...Severus?” Harry leaned over and waved a hand in front of the other man’s face.

Snape blinked twice and shook his head slightly. “Forgive me, I--I was distracted,” he said, a pause in his voice.

“What were you thinking about?” Harry inquired, taking a sip of the hot chocolate that Snape had declined, sticking to his normal cup of tea. 

“I have not had a Christmas that I felt pleasant about for...many years,” Snape murmured. 

“So...this one is pleasant?” Harry asked tentatively, his lip quirked slightly.

“Don’t let it go to your head, Potter. You know full well that my, shall we say, view of you has changed a fair amount.”

Harry nodded, the smile still in his eyes. “I do. It’s rather different from last Christmas, isn’t it?” 

Snape snorted softly, sipping at his tea. “Indeed. Now, seeing as I am not accompanying you to the Weasleys, I should give this to you now...” He dug around in his potions satchel for a moment before pulling out a package, which he held out to Harry.

Harry stared at it blankly, too surprised to take it. “You--you got me a present?” Harry asked, eyes finally meeting Snape’s again.

“No, I’m just handing out a package to you for no reason, Potter,” Snape said sarcastically. “Yes, you idiot boy, now open it.”

Harry gaped at him but obeyed, carefully taking the present and slowly pulling away the wrapping paper. Inside lay first a bracelet with gold braiding and emeralds, and below it was a book. Harry lifted the bracelet, arching a brow inquisitively. “Er, it’s a lovely pattern sir, but it’s not really my style.”

Snape fixed him with an unamused stare. “Very amusing, Potter. This belonged to your mother...she thought she’d lost it, one day after class, but I had found it and...It reminded me of her,” he murmured, not finishing the previous thought. “I know how little you have of Lily’s...or James,” he added, through gritted teeth. “Of course, if you don’t want it-”

Harry shook his head quickly, closing his fingers over the bracelet. “No, it’s...Thank you,” he said, earnestly. He looked down and picked up the book, flipping it over to see no title. He glanced at Snape and then opened it, quickly recognizing Snape’s handwriting.  
“Is this...?”

“A book of my own potions and spells,” Snape confirmed. “Be careful with them,” he warned, eyes boring into Harry’s. “Some are quite powerful.”

“You didn’t...I mean, you didn’t have to...”

“Do not make me say some cliche phrase, Potter, please, I hate sappy moments. You may think of this as you and I turning a new page, as it were.”

Harry closed the book carefully, set the bracelet down, and then held out his hand. After a moment, Snape took it and shook it firmly.  
“Happy Christmas, Severus.”

“Happy Christmas, Harry.”


End file.
